Where The Snake Reigns
by Inkstained Scarlet
Summary: Not sure yet. After the war, Draco went good, but Slytherin house is ruined. How will Harry cope when the people don't need a hero any more? A tale of two young men trying to find a purpose. Also, this is DH slash. Oh, you're not suprised...
1. Default Chapter

Where the Snake Reigns 

**Ch1 – The Lone Snake Wanders **

Draco sighed and turned away from the Great Hall where the frivolous celebrations were being held in honour of the downfall of Lord Voldermort. It all seemed slightly ironic to him. He felt lost. The hall was full of colour- red, gold, yellow, black, and blue. No green or silver. The hall, to Draco, looked beautiful, It was full of laughter and joy. Things he had never known and probably never would and it was all because six years ago he had sat on a stool, placed a hat on his head and had heard the word "Slytherin" screamed from it's brim. At the time, Draco had been pleased. His father would defiantly not have forgiven him had he been placed in Gryffindor. The other houses had never really been options in Draco's eyes. There were two great houses, and he knew that he belonged in one of them. The only thing was, looking back now, Draco wasn't sure that the hat had chosen the right one. It had taken all the strength that seventeen-year-old boy possessed to defy his father, The Dark Lord and his house and turn from the darkness. That had to mean he was brave didn't it? Or had he just been scared when somewhere deep down he had realised that he was fighting on the wrong side. Because when it came down to it, he had joined the winning side. Like any good Slytherin would… The thought was bitter but also very relevant. It was the whole point, in fact. Draco had done what few others had been able to do. He had been a true Slytherin and had joined the side that seemed most likely to win. Draco barely knew what it felt like to loose. Apart from at Quiditch, where Potter had beaten him countless times, and in light of the recent battle, Quiditch seemed a little beyond the point. Yes, Draco was a true Slytherin, unlike those who followed Voldermort on their hands and knees, hoping that when it came to the end, his power would be enough to protect them. Draco snorted. He was no servant who would follow his master around on all fours. No, he had no master. Hell, he had no anything. He had no roommates, hardly any housemates, no friends, no family and no purpose. At least before the Last Battle he had had a purpose. He had to win. That was his purpose. Now…  
Draco stepped through the oak doors and walked down the steps. There were 149 of them. He knew this – he'd walked down them so many times since the war. Lost in his hatred of the man he knew he was growing up to be, he followed his feet until he ended up at the lake. Slipping off his shoes, socks, shirt, cloak and jeans, Draco waded into the water in his boxers, delighting in the feelings that the coldness instigated in his skin. He swam out to the centre of the lake. Looking around at the vast expanse of water, Draco allowed himself to feel for the first time in… years. For only the second time in his teenage life (the first being when his father had disowned him after he refused the Dark Mark) Draco Malfoy, a Malfoy no longer, began to cry. Not shaking sobs or raging hysterics, just gentle tears rolling down his cheeks, splashing into the water. It was over. The war, his family, Slytherin. Everything that had ever been anything in Draco's life had slipped away without finding replacements. There was a lot of space in Draco that needed filling, but he knew not what to fill it with. If someone had been able to gently touch him on the shoulder and whisper "Draco, you're lonely" maybe he would have understood. It wasn't that he couldn't accept it. It was that he couldn't connect the feeling and the word, leaving him lonelier than he'd ever been.  
"Malfoy?"  
Draco quickly ducked under the water, washing away his tears before surfacing and facing the speaker.  
"Harry." Shit "Potter."  
Harry smiled at Draco, "Sorry Draco Malfoy. Didn't realise we'd progressed to full names at last. Would you mind if I just called you Draco?"  
"Not particularly. I guess I can call you Harry then?"  
"Sure." Came the reply as the other boy flopped onto his back sending ripples through the water. Draco watched as the ripples enveloped his body before vanishing and leaving him alone again. Alone. Unlike the people at the feast. The feast. Harry.  
"Err, Harry?" Draco began.  
"Yeah?" said Harry, righting himself again.  
"Why aren't you at the feast? You being the hero and all." He wasn't bitter. No, really! Well okay, maybe a bit.  
"Um," a faint blush appearing on his former enemy's cheeks, "Oh, I didn't feel like it." He was trying to brush it aside, but Draco saw straight through his façade. It was Draco's opinion that he could read Harry like a book. Which was worrying because it probably meant the same was true for Harry and him. Draco didn't like the idea of being so transparent.  
"Oh come on!" he cried, "Lies like that may fool the Mudblood and the Weasel, but in case you hadn't noticed, I'm a little more observant than them. I want the truth."  
"Okay," Harry snapped back, "Fair's fair. I'll tell you the truth if you tell me the truth – why aren't you there?"  
Draco pointed to the trimmings on his coat. When Harry looked blank, he sighed, realising that he was going to have to explain himself.  
"Not enough green. Green doesn't blend in well with red or blue or yellow. I'm Slytherin. They're just school kids, Harry. They think that the war was three against one – and I'm the one. I survived and they hate me for it. They see the snake and they run. I'm what they're drinking to the death of. They don't want me there. If they don't want me there, I don't want me there."  
It was simple. More to the point, it was true. Harry was stunned into silence before, after gentle prompting from Draco ("Your turn, Harry.") he spoke.  
"They don't want me there either."

"Of course they want you there, Harry, you're their fucking God!" Harry glared him into silence, then continued.  
"They want The Boy Who Lived there – he's not who I am. His part in my story is over. I want rid of him, I want to live a normal life. I don't want to spend the rest of my life signing books and telling my stories to vastly over enthusiastic audiences. I want to become Harry Potter. Whoever he is."  
"That's a good reason."  
"Yours too."  
Silence descended upon the pair. Companionable silence though, as both boys swam to shore. Looking across at his new-found companion, Draco flushed to see that he was wearing nothing but his boxers too. Well-formed muscles protruded gently through the skin. He was small of build and had the perfect body for a seeker. Draco blushed suddenly, realising that Harry was probably studying him as well. He muttered a drying spell then pulled on his clothes quickly before his old enemy had a chance to be too critical. Not that it bothered him, of course.  
Harry and Draco walked back towards the school, mostly because there was no other place to go. Harry would have been missed at the feast and Draco… Well, nobody would be waiting up for Draco, nobody would miss him if he were gone, but he didn't want to cause trouble. Not anymore. Not now that Slytherin was the weakest house in the school, including Hufflepuff. When they parted in the entrance hall, Harry to walk up countless flights of stairs to his portrait hole and Draco to walk down a few flights to get to the dungeons, Draco felt an acute sense of loss. Just for a few moments there, he had had the company that he needed so much. Draco hated to think that he needed or even wanted anything that Harry could give, so he chose to ignore his feeling of loss and climb into his dormitory, attempting to ignore the fact that four out of the five red curtained four posters in Harry's dorm would be full tonight (Dean Thomas had been lost to the war) while here where the snake reigned, Draco's would be the only bed warmed by a person that night. Two of the others had died in the Last Battle. One was in Azkaban and the other was in St Mungo's but would join his fellow Death Eaters in Azkaban as soon as he was recovered. Draco turned to face the wall, trying to ignore the tears that fell down his cheeks, leaving salty rivers on his cheeks and wet patches on his pillow. An hour or so later, he fell into a blissfully dreamless sleep.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That's all for now. I'd really like to continue this one, but I'm not going to bother if no one is reading it, so if you have read and you liked (or disliked – ggrrrrrrr Nah, I'm just kidding) then please review!


	2. A Positive Side

Where the Snake Reigns 

**Ch 2 – A Positive Side**

Morning came for Draco like a hangover for most others. He woke up with a searing headache and a desperate wish to be dead. A quick wave of the wand and the headache disappeared. The feeling stayed however. Placing his wand back on his bedside table, Draco tucked his hair behind his ears and blinked the sleepy glaze from his eyes. Standing up and moving towards the showers, Draco smirked. There would be no queue today, what with there being seven showers and only four Slytherins left.

_I suppose there's a positive side to everything. _He thought sarcastically.

An early morning walk round the grounds – a new ritual for Harry. It meant he never had to be there when the others woke up. They were so happy and he was so… unfulfilled. He was a human floating through space and time, lost to the void. There was no purpose to a successful hero. You don't need saving if the enemy is gone. The hero becomes useless. Aimless. And eventually, unwanted. Harry smiled sadly, almost longing for the days when Voldermort had been strong. At least then he had something to do. Something to fear. Now, even Malfoy had gone good on him. Malcontent yes, but good all the same.

For a few minutes Harry's line of thought strayed away before reaching back and pointing out to the very Gryffindor part of his heart that Draco must be very much alone and worried at this time. Yes, he forsook the darkness, but his house had vanished into the lining. It was hard to tell where the wall ended and the Slytherin common room began. With a stab of guilt, Harry glanced across at the Dungeons and frowned. It could have been his house. He was, after all, part Slytherin. Voldermort had made sure of that. His eyes were certain that they belonged underground, as was a small part of his heart and his soul.

A shock of thought. Overwhelming unhappiness. Willingness to die. Wand to chest. Poised to kill.

Eyes snapping open, Harry saw a flash of impossibly blond hair. Draco. Something was wrong. He was sure of it. With no Ravenclaw examination, Hufflepuff worry or Slytherin concern for self, Harry charged off and into the school with only a Gryffindor's bravery. Through the Entrance Hall, down the stairs, past Snape's room and through the corridor, past statues of grotesque things no one should ever ask about and down yet another flight of stairs until Harry finally found the Slytherin common room entrance. A stately looking rather thin and gaunt woman turned and surveyed Harry through small glasses perched on her nose. She had about as much of the Fat Lady's kindness as she had weight. She wrinkled her nose as if Harry smelt bad and said

"Password?" in a voice as cold as the stone she was entombed in, sneering when Harry faltered.

"Oh, Fuck!" He said, kicking the wall in frustration, amazed when the portrait swung open.

_Fuck? _He said to himself _Fuck? Their password is Fuck? Figures…_

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I've never done a long one before, but if you think it's worth me carrying on, then please R/R. I love you!


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